


Time’s The Charm

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, background broun/valence, spoilers for up to partizan 22, warning for suicidal thoughts (only in a small section but still worth a heads-up)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24736135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Clem gets a do-over, but it takes her a while to know what to do with it.
Relationships: Gucci Garantine/Clementine Kesh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Time’s The Charm

Clem wakes to the gentle chiming of her alarm. She sighs, frowning up at the low ceiling. It’s the same green-grey as the walls, the same ceiling as every other room in Fort Icebreaker. Her alarm chimes again, prompting her to get up.

She stands slowly, turning away from her mirror as she dresses. The scar on her side is healing, still, her skin tender around the bandages. The dress she chooses isn’t her favourite, really, but it’s comfortable, the thick material hiding the bandages easily. That’s important, she thinks. Even if people know, it’s important that they don’t _see_. It’s about the presentation of power.

She’s still fussing with her hair by the time Sovereign Immunity knocks on her door. She calls out to him and he opens the door carefully. She likes that about him, the deference to her position that few people show her, here.

“Ah, yes,” says Clem, “The meeting with Valence. I take it you’ve tracked them down?”

Sovereign Immunity nods. “You wanted to go over the plan before the meeting?”

Clem frowns, looking at him in the mirror before her attention turns back to her own reflection. “I don’t remember making any such request of you.”

Sovereign Immunity hesitates. “It… would be easier for me to bolster your arguments if I knew what they were.”

Clem sighs, her attention more on smoothing her hair into a high ponytail than on Sovereign Immunity. She _wanted_ to do some kind of braided updo, maybe something like Gucci has, but it never sits right when she does it herself. Even the ponytail doesn’t look as neat as she wants it to.

Sovereign Immunity clears his throat.

Clem sighs again, standing to face him. “This is a large ship, which requires more people than we have to run it at full capacity. We have access to such people, who are currently without homes. It seems a very simple solution.”

Sovereign Immunity’s jaw twitches as he clenches it. He does that quite a lot, and Clem thinks it can’t possibly be good for his teeth.

“Sure,” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem pauses, her hand hovering over her coat. “You don’t agree?”

“I… It’s not that I don’t agree,” says Sovereign Immunity, “But there are other factors people - Valence - might want you to consider.”

“Such as?”

“Compensation,” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem hums, sliding on the coat. “Well. I suppose we shall see what they say.”

She walks alongside Sovereign Immunity through the corridors in silence, passing by people walking this way and that. Gur Sevraq nods to her as they pass each other and Clem nods back, because it seems like the right thing to do. Soldiers salute her as they pass and Clem nods to them too, trying to keep the smile off her face. People never used to _salute_ her before.

They pass by Millie, a battered clipboard tucked under her arm as she directs inventory. The salute she gives is not quite as deferential as the soldiers, and when Clem glares at her she _laughs_. Clem feels her cheeks burn and she tilts her head up, speeding her pace until they are around the corner.

“You can’t let her get to you so much,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“She doesn’t,” snaps Clem.

Sovereign Immunity, perhaps wisely, says nothing until they reach Valence. He gives her a look as they enter. He’s always giving her these looks, and they’re always completely unreadable. She wishes -

_I wish you would order off the menu_.

Clem swallows, heat prickling her cheeks as Valence turns towards her. Their face, thanks in part to their mask, is even more unreliable than Sovereign Immunity’s. They turn towards him too, their eyes sliding to him as though her presence is barely felt, forgettable. Irritation prickles in her throat, coating her words through their conversation.

“I’m not a monster,” says Clem.

She can tell that they don’t believe her, doubly frustrating since she’s doing everything that they agree with. If they can see another method, they don’t offer it.

Clem broods on the walk back to her room, Sovereign Immunity following behind her. 

“It felt like the right thing to do.”

“It is,” says Sovereign Immunity, “Or, it’s- it’s the best we can do, at the moment.”

Clem huffs a breath. “Yes. Yes I know.” She pauses, her hand on the doorknob to her room. “Well, I’m sure you can handle things from here.”

She disappears inside before he can say anything else.

Clem sits down in front of her dressing table, reports spread out in front of her, one eye on the quickly-scrolling tablet while she tries to wrangle her hair into the braided updo. It doesn’t seem like it should be all that complicated, after all, it was similar enough to Gucci, and Gucci hadn’t brought any house staff with her either. All she had to do was gather it up into a braid so it sat neatly. Her hair tangled in the fingers and Clem made a frustrated sound, reaching for her brush to try it again. She could get this to work. It was just _hair_.

Gucci finds her that way, hours later, entering without knocking and shooting Clem a grin at Clem’s noise of surprise.

“I heard you met with Valence,” says Gucci.

“Oh,” says Clem, making a show of turning her attention back to her hair, “That.”

“Yes, _that_ ,” says Gucci, “And now you’ve got your Sovereign Immunity running all over the ship trying to convince people of _your_ plan.”

“It’s called delegating,” says Clem, “Leaders do it all the time.”

“Cowards, too.”

“What exactly are you implying?” says Clem. “I could hardly be expected to run all over the ship.”

“Because what you’re doing now is so important,” says Gucci.

“I’m multitasking,” says Clem.

“Not very well,” says Gucci. She steps forward, batting Clem’s hands away and picking up her brush. “I can’t believe you’re so bad at this.”

Clem sighs, but she doesn’t stop Gucci. It feels rather nice, sitting quietly while Gucci carefully brushes out her hair, pulling it into the braid.

“How do you know what style I want it in?” says Clem.

Gucci laughs. “I’m right about it though, aren’t I?”

Clem looks down, smiling despite herself. “Maybe.”

Gucci laughs again, the sound of it softer this time. Clem sneaks a glance at her in the mirror, watching her work. Gucci’s watch beeps and she glances at it, her nose wrinkling.

“What is it?” says Clem, her voice quiet.

“I have to go,” says Gucci, her voice matching Clem’s, like they’re hiding under the covers at rowing camp, whispering so they won’t get caught gossiping after lights out. “I did actually want to talk to you, about the refugees, about-” she waves her hand “-all this.”

Clem frowns. “All what?”

“The _refugees_ Clem,” says Gucci, “using them as workers? Making Sovereign Immunity be the face of your plan?”

“He’s not the face of it, he’s delegating, I _told_ you-”

“That is not _delegating_ , you just don’t want to do the work-” Gucci’s watch beeps again and scowls down at it. 

“Go on,” says Clem, her voice a little too hoarse to be as dismissive as she’d like.

“Tomorrow,” says Gucci, “You’re not getting out of having this conversation.”

“I’m not trying to,” says Clem, “You’re the one who’s running away.”

“ _Running away_ , that’s big coming from _you_ -” Gucci’s watch beeps again, and she makes a frustrated sound, moving towards the door.

“This _isn’t over_ ,” says Gucci.

Even if Clem could have thought of a last word fast enough, Gucci’s already closed the door by the time Clem opens her mouth. She huffs a breath instead, turning back to the mirror and wrinkling her nose at her expression.

The hairstyle Gucci has given her is, unfortunately, perfect, exactly what she wanted.

She leaves it in when she goes to sleep. It might keep well enough for tomorrow.

  
  


\----

  
  


Her alarm chimes. Clem frowns as she opens her eyes. The alarm is _supposed_ to play a different piece of music for each day of the week. She sighs, looking up at the green-grey ceiling. Another thing on this ship that doesn’t work as it’s supposed to. How dreadfully annoying.

Still, one can’t let such small inconveniences disrupt their day. Clem drags herself out of bed, smoothing her hair into a high ponytail after only a few attempts. The hairstyle Gucci gave her must have come out overnight. 

She pauses at her wardrobe, blinking at it. The dress she’d worn yesterday is back in the closet, unwrinkled and clean. Clem shakes herself. Perhaps Sovereign Immunity organised for it to be cleaned. Her hand hovers over it for a moment before she chooses a different outfit. She already wore it once this week anyway, things weren’t so dire yet that she had to repeat the same outfit. She turns away from the mirror, smoothing out the dress, ready for another busy day.

Sovereign Immunity is coming up the corridor towards her as she steps out. He, at least, seems to have no worry about repeating the previous day’s outfit. She hopes he’s slept, at least, he has a long day of presentations ahead of him and she can’t afford for him to be sloppy about it if they are to convince people of their plan.

“Good morning your highness,” says Sovereign Immunity, “Glad to see that you’re awake. You wanted to see me before we met with Valence?”

Clem frowns. “Again?”

Sovereign Immunity blinks. “You… already met with Valence?”

“I… yes? We both did, yesterday,” says Clem.

She gives him a look, only to find him giving her a look right back.

“We met with them yesterday, to discuss the refugees?” Clem tries.

Sovereign Immunity’s expression does not change. “We’re… that’s what we’re meeting with them about today, we haven’t…” He lowers his voice, although they are alone in the corridor. “Clementine, are you feeling alright?”

Clem bristles. “I’m fine. I must have- it’s been on my mind, I suppose I must have thought it over so much it feels as though it has already happened.”

“I’m… glad that you have been giving it so much consideration,” says Sovereign Immunity carefully.

“Yes, well,” says Clem, “Let’s get this over with.”

She heads towards the room Valence has agreed to meet them. Gur Sevraq nods to her, soldiers salute. Just like her dream, they pass Millie in the corridor, faded green clipboard in hand. Just like in her dream, Millie gives her a lazy salute. Clem’s steps falter slightly before she quickens her pace.

“You can’t let her get to you so much,” says Sovereign Immunity.

Clem feels a jolt. She looks up at Sovereign Immunity, but if he registers the words as familiar, he doesn’t show it.

“I… she doesn’t,” says Clem.

When she reaches the door she closes her eyes. When she’d approached Valence in her dream they had been standing to the right of the console, looking out at the sea. She opens the door.

Valence is standing to the right of the console, looking out at the sea.

“Now hold on,” says Clem.

Valence turns towards her, their mask’s expression fixed. “Hold onto what?”

Clem frowns, shaking herself. “I… have we spoken about the refugees before?”

“No,” says Valence. Their gaze slides to Sovereign Immunity. “I was under the impression that’s what we were going to talk about now.”

“We are,” says Clem, trying to get their attention back to her. “We’re taking them on board.”

“This isn’t much of a discussion,” says Valence.

“Do you disagree?” says Clem.

“Well… no, not necessarily,” says Valence.

“And because of that, we’ll need extra food, extra labour,” says Clem, “Don’t you agree?”

Valence hesitates. “Yes.”

“And as we are providing the refugees with free food and housing and safety,” says Clem, feeling pleased with how well the conversation is going this time around, “don’t you agree that it is only fair that they help us as we are helping them?”

“I… you want to save them so they can work for you?” says Valence.

They sound far more concerned than they did in her dream.

“No,” says Clem, “I want to help them and I want them to help us. It’s… it’s mutual.”

“Mutual,” says Valence, the disbelief clear in their voice as their eyes slide once again to Sovereign Immunity.

Sovereign Immunity, unhelpfully, winces.

“Yes,” snaps Clem, “Mutual, like this whole Break thing is supposed to be.”

“I don’t think it’s very mutual to force someone into working for you,” says Valence.

“Oh, yes, I forgot you were worried about that part of things,” says Clem, “We would pay them too, obviously.”

As in her dream, Sovereign Immunity relaxes behind her.

Valence snorts. “Right, obviously.”

“Of course,” says Clem, “I’m not a monster.”

“Right,” says Valence. They pause. “And the people who don’t want to help you?”

“The people who don’t want to stay here and help _us_ can… we’ll find somewhere for them to go,” says Clem, stumbling a little as she remembers this part of their conversation.

“Somewhere safe?” says Valence.

“Yes,” says Clem, “Well. Relatively. They’ll still be on Partizan.”

“Right,” says Valence again. They sound as irritatingly suspicious as they had in her dream, their eyes drifting once again to Sovereign Immunity.

“Valence,” says Clem, “Can I ask, what exactly you believe I am doing wrong here?”

Behind her, she can feel Sovereign Immunity tense again, which does not serve to make her feel less annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Valence, “I just don’t trust you.”

“Yes, I can see that,” says Clem, “But what, exactly, would you do differently here? We need manpower and supplies, they need protection. Their situation would hardly be worse here than they would on a battlefield.”

Valence pauses for a long moment. “I agree with you, in this instance.”

“ _Thank_ you,” says Clem.

“But I guess I just don’t trust you to change your mind if you get a better offer,” they finish.

Clem wrinkles her nose. “If that is your opinion of me then it is a wonder you agreed to meet with me in the first place.”

“Because someone needed to,” says Valence.

Clem lets a breath out slowly through her nose, considering them. Their mask is impassive, unreadable.

“You are entitled to feel that way I suppose,” says Clem, “But that doesn’t change the fact that decisions have to be made.”

She turns on her heel and walks out. After a moment, she can hear Sovereign Immunity following behind her.

“I assume you can distribute this information to the people,” says Clem.

Sovereign Immunity blinks. “You want me to talk to people about this?”

“Yes,” says Clem, “You _can_ do it, can’t you?”

“I- sure,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“Good,” says Clem, and leaves him in the corridor.

Back in her room she looks through the reports but gives up after a few pages. She’s sure she’s read all of these before, even though their timestamps say they’ve just come in. Very strange. Perhaps she needs to get someone to check their communications arrays.

Gucci enters without knocking, grinning as Clem looks up at her.

“I heard you met with Valence,” says Gucci.

Clem frowns. This whole day has felt so oddly familiar. 

“I- Yes?”

“And now you’ve got your Sovereign Immunity running all over the ship trying to convince people of _your_ plan.”

“It’s... called delegating,” says Clem, “I can’t be expected to do everything on this ship simply because I am in charge.”

“Because what you’re doing now is so important,” says Gucci.

“I’m making myself aware of the information available,” says Clem.

“Information about what?”

Clem waves a hand. “Supplies. Intel. All sorts of things.”

Gucci folds her arms. “None of that sounds particularly pressing.”

Clem sighs, turning around in her chair. “What would _you_ have me do exactly?”

“You could do the work you’re forcing Sovereign Immunity to do, for a start.”

“I’m delegating it to him-”

“That is not _delegating_ , you just don’t want to do the work-” Gucci’s watch beeps she scowls down at it. 

“It sounds as though you have somewhere to be, Galantine,” says Clem.

Gucci makes a frustrated sound. “You’re not getting out of having this conversation.”

“I’m not trying to,” says Clem, “You’re the one who’s running away.”

“ _Running away_ , that’s big coming from _you_ -” Gucci’s watch beeps again, and she huffs a breath, moving towards the door. “This _isn’t over_.”

Just like Clem’s dream, Gucci closes the door too fast for Clem to respond. Clem lets out a breath, looking at herself in the mirror. It has been a very strange day, and she’s absolutely glad that it’s over.

  
  


\----

  
  


When she wakes up to the same chime as the previous two mornings, she starts to have the feeling that something is actually _wrong_. When she looks in her closet, both of the dresses she has already worn are hanging in her closet, pristine. When she checks her tablet, the reports that she was reading last night are gone.

Clem sits down heavily at her dressing table, staring at the blank tablet screen. There’s a polite knock at her door.

“Your highness?” says Sovereign Immunity, “We have our meeting-”

“With Valence, yes,” says Clem, “I- just a moment, Sovereign.”

She dresses quickly, pulling her coat around her shoulders. Sovereign Immunity gives her an odd look as she opens the door.

“What?” says Clem, the word coming out a touch harsher than she’d meant it.

“I… thought you wanted to go over the plan before the meeting?”

“No, I believe I have a handle on it,” says Clem.

“You do.”

“Yes,” says Clem, “We take on some of the refugees and pay them to work for us instead of dropping them off at some battlefield, thus solving two problems at once.”

“Sure,” says Sovereign Immunity slowly.

Clem frowns, looking up at him. “Do you… disagree?”

“No, but…” Sovereign Immunity hesitates for a moment. “You should perhaps… soften your language when talking to Valence. They’re very, uh. People focussed, so it would probably help if you didn’t talk about the refugees like they were a problem.”

Clem hums, her attention momentarily diverted by Gur Sevraq, nodding to her as they pass by him talking to a group of soldiers. The soldiers salute. Clem nods back to the group, trying to keep her expression clear. The pass Millie, who salutes, grinning at her. Clem can feel Sovereign Immunity tense up beside her, but she doesn’t react.

Valence, when she reaches them, is looking out towards the ocean. Clem takes a step backwards, startled.

“I’ve already done this,” says Clem.

Valence gives Sovereign Immunity a look. “What is she talking about?”

“Clementine?” says Sovereign Immunity softly.

“I’ve already done this,” repeats Clem, “I’m going to tell you what the plan is, and you’re going to agree with me but you’re going to have a very bad attitude about it the entire time-”

Sovereign Immunity puts a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, maybe we should postpone this meeting-”

“I don’t want to _postpone_ it,” says Clem, “I’ve already _done_ it.”

The meeting is not very productive.

Sovereign Immunity ushers her back to her room and into bed, as though she is a sickly child. He calls for Doctor Schuyler, who pokes at her and says a lot of vague things about “stress” and “taking on too much” and does not listen to her in the slightest as he presses a tincture into her hands. She drinks it, more than a little skeptical about the bright blue liquid’s ability to help.

When Sovereign Immunity steps out into the hall, Clem slips out of bed to get her tablet. Slowly, the reports that she’s already read trickle in, informing her of things for the third time in a row.

Outside, she can hear Gucci’s voice, the words muffled but the concern clear enough that Clem’s chest feels tight.

Clem climbs back into bed, pulling the covers over her head, scrolling through the tablet. She knows all of this, she’s already read it all, even though it’s coming in now in real time. Perhaps it’s a new facet of the Perennial Wave, and she’s the first to notice it.

Her eyes drift closed. _Oh_ , she thinks, _the tincture_.

  
  


\----

  
  


Her alarm chimes, and Clem’s eyes snap open. She stumbles out of bed, ripping open the door of her closet, and there are her dresses, unworn and pristine as ever. She flicks on her tablet, and none of the reports are there.

Clem sits down on her bed. So. It’s the same day, again, somehow. Which means she has to have the same argument with Valence, again. And then the same argument with Gucci, again. Clem lets out a sound of frustration, flopping backwards on her bed. Well, this is-

It’s not ideal.

It’s hard to win a war if you’re stuck in the same random day. Clem tries to think back over the reports, ironically easier now that she’s read them a few times. Nothing really of note happens, on that front. There’s not even any significant moves by any of the Stels. And she would certainly have noticed if someone had reported repeating the day.

Clem drags a hand down her face. Well. Might as well get on with it. It’s not as though she needs to talk her ideas over with Sovereign Immunity, she’s already done that.

She dresses quickly, heading out into the corridor. It’s still too early to go directly to Valence, she’s not sure where they are before their meeting with her, and so she walks the corridors, nodding to soldiers as she passes.

Millie pauses in where she’s directing people moving things to and from one of the small storerooms, giving her a mocking salute. Clem bristles despite herself, and Millie laughs.

“Where’s your lapdog?” says Millie.

“What?”

Millie shrugs. “I basically haven’t seen you without Sovereign Immunity standing behind you since we got here.”

“He’s… somewhere.” Clem pauses. “I don’t ask him to do that.”

Millie raises an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t!” says Clem, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can,” says Millie, the words dripping with condescension.

It’s designed to get a rise out of her, Clem knows it is, and yet-

“You’ve _seen_ me do it,” says Clem.

“Sure, in a mech,” says Millie, “and even with a huge robot that’s like, _designed_ to be a killing machine, you still barely made it.”

“I took Fort Icebreaker,” says Clem.

“ _Sure_ you did,” says Millie.

“You- I- You can’t speak to me like- I don’t have to stand here and take this,” splutters Clem.

“So don’t,” says Millie, “Some of us have work to do.”

“You’re right, I do,” says Clem.

She walks purposefully down the corridor, keeping her pace fast and businesslike until she’s turned the corner. There’s a small strip of outdoor area on the ship that she can see through the window, where Gur Sevraq stands, looking out over the ocean.

“Clementine Kesh,” says Gur, “I did not expect to see you out here.”

“Oh, well, I’m just, you know. Getting some air,” says Clem.

Gur hums, turning back to look out over the ocean. Clem follows their gaze - the water spreads out in front of them until it meets the horizon in a red-tinged haze. Clem swallows hard.

“I have found that this is a good place to gather might thoughts before the noise of the day,” says Gur.

Clem nods.

Gur pauses for a moment. “I understand that you are meeting with Valence this morning.”

“Yes,” says Clem. “Wait. How did you hear about that?”

“News always travels fast on a ship, even on one of this size,” says Gur. “I did not think this to be a secret engagement.”

Clem wrinkles her nose. “I suppose it’s not, no. It’s more that I… wanted to get their opinion. They’ve been very vocal, about the refugees, how we should be doing more for them…”

“Very kind of you to hear their thoughts,” says Gur.

“Thank you,” says Clem.

Gur’s eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. “You’re welcome.” They pause. “I hope this means that you will listen to what they have to say during this encounter with them. They have an… interesting perspective.”

Clem nods, distracted as her pager vibrates, reminding her of the meeting time. “If you’ll excuse me.”

They incline their head. “Of course.”

The meeting with Valence goes as well as ever. It doesn’t seem to matter how careful she is with her words, Valence is still tense, their eyes sliding to Sovereign Immunity as she talks. Clem curls her nails into her palm, and raises her voice slightly to get their attention back on her.

She leaves the information with Sovereign Immunity again to distribute but instead of heading back to her room she heads down towards the loading bay. Perhaps they’ve brought something on board, something that’s disrupting the Perennial Wave.

If there is, she never finds out, because Gur Sevraq catches her.

“Checking on our supplies?”

Clem lets the crate snap shut. “I, ah. Yes.”

“I did not expect you to be so… hands on.”

“Yes, well, I- One must take that approach. After all this is a group effort, of sorts.”

Gur gives her an odd look. “Yes, it is.”

Clem’s hands flex behind her back. “And what brings you down here? I can’t imagine they have you sorting through inventory.”

“No,” says Gur, smiling.”I am here to talk to some of the refugees, to bolster their hopes on their journey. Perhaps you’d like to join me, if you are not otherwise busy?”

Clem agrees, mainly because she can’t think of a convincing reason that she needs to go look through crates. She means to let them start talking and then sneak away, but Gur keeps her close, introducing her to the refugees, keeping her by their side as he talks them through their hopes, their dreams. Clem zones in and out, nodding along.

“-and even though each day may feel the same,” sys Gur, “We must try to learn from that too-”

Clem blinks. “What?”

Gur continues as if he hasn’t heard her, talking about the future, and how it is always out of reach.

Clem’s eyes narrow. Of course. Gur Sevraq has a _Divine_ . Certainly a Divine could affect time, especially the Divine _Future_ . And he’d been there each time, watching her. Of _course_.

“I know what you’re doing,” says Clem, reaching out to grab Gur’s arm.

Gur blinks, looking down at her. “Your highness?”

His voice is very calm, which, it would be, if you were controlling time. Clem doesn’t let go of their sleeve.

“I’ve figured it out,” says Clem, triumphantly, “ _You’re_ doing this!”

Gur frowns slightly. “I apologise, I do not understand.”

Their voice is calm, unworried. It makes a sharp comparison to the people around them, who look as Clem with something approaching fear.

“I-” Clem clears her throat, letting go of their arm. “May I please speak to you? Privately?”

“Of course,” says Gur, “Perhaps you could go to your rooms, and I will speak to you there?”

Clem falls asleep, waiting.

  
  


\----

  
  


Her alarm chimes. Clem scowls at the ceiling.

“I _knew_ it,” says Clem.

She races out of her room, searching for Gur Sevraq. They’re on the deck again, staring out at the ocean.

“Clementine Kesh,” says Gur, as she approaches, “I did not expect to see you out-”

“I know what you’re doing,” says Clem.

Gur blinks, looking down at her. “Your highness?”

His voice is very calm, as calm as it had been the first time they had this conversation. Clem draws her hand back, where she’d been going to grab at the sleeve of their robe.

“I… would it be possible to speak to you? Privately?”

“Of course,” says Gur, “But don’t you have a meeting with Valence this morning?”

Clem’s pager beeps - a concerned message from Sovereign Immunity. “Oh, right, that. I- yes. After?”

They incline their head, and Clem races off down the labyrinth of corridors to the meeting. Sovereign Immunity gives her a concerned look as she approaches.

“Your highness, I… thought you wanted to go over the plan before the meeting?”

“I was attending to other matters,” says Clem, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

It’s not fine. Clem slams out of the meeting and stomps down the hallways to her room. She flops down on her bed, huffing a breath.

Well. At least she could read Valence’s expression this time.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Go away Gucci,” says Clem.

There’s a pause. “How did you know it was me?”

“It’s always you,” says Clem.

The doorhandle rattles, and she can hear Gucci’s huff of breath. “ _Clementine_.”

“Leave me alone Garantine,” says Clem, “I don’t feel like arguing with you right now.”

Gucci pauses again. “You can’t hide in there forever.” She knocks on the door again. “You can’t just send Sovereign Immunity out there to do your work.”

“It’s called _delegating_ ,” says Clem, “and it’s _not cowardly_.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“But you were _going_ to,” says Clem, “Gucci, I…”

She swallows, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Clem?”

“Please go away Gucci,” says Clem.

Gucci sighs. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You’re not getting out of this conversation.”

Clem snorts, pulling the covers over her head. “Right, tomorrow. Of course. We’ll talk about whatever you like.”

  
  


\----

  
  


Her alarm chimes. Clem opens her eyes slowly, checking her room. Her dresses are in the closet, clean and unworn. The reports are yet to be delivered. It’s today once again.

Clem lets out a slow breath, sitting on the edge of her bed. She needs a plan, and for a plan, she needs information. She rummages around for a notebook, starting a list.

_Every day is today._

_No one else seems to remember._

_It’s not Gur Sevraq (I think)._

_It’s probably not the Perennial Wave._

She frowns. It’s not exactly an extensive list of information.

Someone knocks on the door. “Your highness? You wanted to go over the plan before the meeting?”

Clem meets her own gaze in the mirror. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

Sovereign Immunity nods through her sketch of a plan. He looks less worried this time around.

“Farming isn’t a bad idea, as long as we get people with the know-how,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“Well, surely some of the refugees would know, they could work with the engineers…” Clem waves a hand, “I’m sure we could make it work in some capacity.”

He presses his lips together slightly, considering her a moment. “And the refugees, would we… I mean, we’d be providing them protection, food, housing, but would we…”

“Of course we’d pay them,” snaps Clem, “Is _that_ why you always look so concerned when Valence asks about that?”

Sovereign Immunity frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Clem, “I just mean, _really_ Sovereign. Of course we would compensate them, the same as any crewmember.” She pauses. “Well. Perhaps not _exactly_ , I don’t know that we have the finances at the moment for that, but-” She breaks off looking up at him. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“No, of course not,” says Sovereign Immunity, “but, I- well. The reason I started working for you was because I was in jail, and previously when I got paid the same as the rest of the crew it was zero.”

“Well, that will change too,” says Clem.

Sovereign Immunity blinks. The surprise on his face stings, a little.

“What, really?”

“Of course,” says Clem, “I’ll sort it out. Really, you should have said something before.”

She opens the door, and there is Valence in front of her, turning towards her as always. This time around, she notices how their shoulders are tense, bracing themselves.

“First of all,” says Clem, “I want you to know that whoever agrees to work for us will get paid, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”

“That’s… good,” says Valence slowly. They blink. “Wait, who’s agreeing to work for you?”

“Well, that’s the part you won’t like as much,” says Clem.

They still don’t seem to like it, or to trust her, but there’s no yelling this time. 

Clem holds her hand out at the end of their meeting and they shake it.

_Maybe this is it_ , Clem thinks, _maybe this is the way out, I just have to do everything right_.

She talks through the plan again with Sovereign Immunity on their walk back to her room. He still doesn’t look thrilled at the prospect of spreading the word to the rest of the ship, so she tells him to wait on it.

“We can work on what you’ll present to people together tomorrow,” says Clem.

He seems to like that a little better and Clem smiles, pleased. There. Compromise.

She sits down at her dressing table and fusses with her hair, waiting for Gucci.

“I heard you met with Valence,” says Gucci, as she enters.

Clem’s hands flutter to her lap. “I did.”

“And?”

“And now I have to convince everyone else, I suppose,” says Clem carefully.

“By getting Sovereign Immunity to do it for you?”

Clem curls her toes in her boots, pushing down the curl of irritation. She can’t fight with Gucci about this, it’ll ruin everything.

“I’m… delegating,” says Clem, “Leaders do it all the time.”

“Cowards, too.”

“Gucci, I can hardly be expected to run all over the ship,” says Clem, “It’s far easier for Sovereign to do it.”

“Why?”

Clem says the first thing that comes into her head. “Because they’ll listen to him.”

Immediately, she can feel a blush rise to her cheeks. She turns back to the mirror, her hands fluttering over her hair as she tries to pull it up into the braided style Gucci gave her.

“And they won’t listen to you?”

Clem’s cheeks burn. “I don’t…” She lets out a breath. “When I meet with people, they look to him, even when I’m speaking. I’m sure there are better uses for my time.”

Gucci steps forward, batting Clem’s hands away. She works in silence for a long moment, her fingertips brushing Clem’s scalp.

“I don’t understand it,” says Gucci softly.

Clem tilts her head up to look at her. “What?”

“I always want to look at you when you speak,” says Gucci, “Even when you’re saying something _absolutely_ ridiculous, or wrong, or- anything. I don’t understand why anybody wouldn’t.”

Clem’s breath catches in her throat. “Oh, that’s… you’ve never said that before.”

Gucci smiles, her cheeks tinged pink. “I never thought you needed to hear it.”

“I don’t,” says Clem, “but I… I like to hear it. From you.” She swallows. “I… I like to look at you when you speak, too.”

Gucci’s smile widens, and she leans down to kiss Clem, softly at first and then deeper when Clem gasps. She puts her hand on Clem’s shoulder, and the warmth of her palm seeps through Clem’s dress into her skin.

Gucci’s watch beeps, and she pulls back, huffing a laugh.

“You have to go,” says Clem.

“I do, but I…” 

Gucci presses her lips together, drawing Clem’s gaze before she can pull her eyes away. Gucci laughs, ducking down to press another quick kiss to Clem’s lips.

“Tomorrow,” says Gucci, “I still want to to talk to you-”

Her watch beeps again. 

“Go,” says Clem.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” says Gucci.

“Yes, tomorrow,” says Clem.

She falls asleep smiling, feeling assured by the promise of a new day.

  
  


\----

  
  


It is not a new day.

Clem skips the meeting and heads straight down to the loading bay. Clearly the answer isn’t in being nice to people, so there’s no need for her to meet with Valence, no need to skirt around things with Sovereign Immunity or Gucci.

Unfortunately, most of the crates seem to contain the things that they _should_ contain - food, medical supplies, weapons, uniforms.

“What are you doing?”

Clem looks up from where she’s prying open a crate that’s supposed to contain batteries to see Figure A, headphones balanced carefully around their head and music players clutched in hand.

“Checking things,” says Clem.

The crate does contain batteries. Clem glares at them. The batteries do nothing, providing that they are normal batteries, or, perhaps, extremely sneaky magical time-warping batteries. She pokes one with her finger.

Nothing.

They, probably, are just batteries.

Clem sighs, and moves to the next crate.

“If you are looking for something, I could help,” says Figure A, “I have read all the delivery manifests.”

Clem pauses, looking at them. “All of them?”

“Yes.” They pause. “I ran out of magazines to input, and there are no other reading materials on board that I am authorised to access.”

“I think I have some books,” says Clem, “Histories, I think. You can have them, I certainly don’t want them. I honestly don’t even know why they were with my things.”

“Thank you,” says Figure A, “I do like history.”

“Really? I’ve always thought it was dreadfully boring.”

“I like the story of it,” says Figure A, “Seeing everything that happened, the pattern of it, repeating, looping, continuing-”

Clem freezes, turning to look at them. “What did you say?”

Figure A tilts their head. “That history is a story, a tale, a pattern. On a long enough time frame you can see the points of similarity.”

“Do you see any here?”

Figure A’s head flickers. “Any history?”

“Yes,” says Clem, “Has any of this happened before?”

They consider this for a moment. “Most things have.”

“But not… not this _exact_ thing,” says Clem, “Although, no, not this exact thing, because this is the first time we’ve had this conversation today.”

“It is,” says Figure A.

Clem pauses looking them over for a moment. “I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to tell me if it’s ever happened before.”

Figure A nods through her explanation.

“Well?” says Clem.

They pause. “If it has happened before, I do not have records of it.”

Clem lets out a frustrated noise, sliding down to sit on the floor. After a moment, they join her, sitting cross-legged opposite her. Clem’s hands flex, and she presses them down onto the cold metal floor.

“No records,” says Clem. “Well, that’s just- great.”

Figure A gives her a solemn nod. “No. The closest I have are fairy tales.”

“What?”

“Curses and children’s stories,” says Figure A, “Cured with true love’s first kiss.”

“But I already tried that,” says Clem.

If Figure A notices how her face flushes red, they very kindly act as if they don’t.

“Maybe a different person is needed for a different solution,” says Figure A.

  
  


\----

  
  


“It’s not that,” says Clem.

Figure A’s screen flickers. “We have had this conversation before.”

“Yes,” says Clem, “And you give _terrible_ advice.”

Figure A pauses. “How many permutations did you try?”

Clem blushes. “I’m not telling you _that_. Enough people that I’m sure it didn’t work.”

Figure A nods, solemn. “I am sorry that I could not be of more help, assistance, aid.”

Clem sighs. “It’s not your fault, I suppose. It was an idea, at least. And you didn’t tell me I was crazy.”

“I did not tell you that because I do not think you are,” says Figure A.

Clem attempts a smile. “Thank you.”

Gucci is waiting for her when she drags herself back up to her room. She opens her mouth, her expression changing from anger to concern so fast it makes Clem’s skin prickle.

“Clem?”

“Whatever you’re about to yell at me for, I apologise,” says Clem.

She sits down at her dressing table, because that’s where she sits for this part of the day.

“I’m not-” Guccci huffs a breath. “You were supposed to meet with Valence today. Sovereign’s been frantic.”

“I couldn’t,” says Clem, “I’m too tired of having the same argument with them.”

She starts brushing her hair out. Her hands are shaking too much for her to get her hair into the braid updo. Gucci steps towards her, and Clem’s hands settle in her lap as Gucci takes over. She catches sight of Gucci’s expression.

“What,” snaps Clem. 

“Nothing,” says Gucci.

They don’t speak as Gucci twists Clem’s hair into the now-familiar style. Clem watches her fingers work, Gucci’s movements quick and her touch feather-light against her scalp. Clem’s eyes flutter closed. This is her favourite part of the loop, the only saving grace in an otherwise nightmare of a day. She lets out a sigh, and she can hear Gucci’s soft huff of laughter above her.

“I used to do this for you all the time, remember? After practise.”

Clem tilts her face down, aware of the blush rising to her cheeks. “I do.”

She feels Gucci pause, leaning down towards her. Clem pulls back, her chest tightening at the flash of hurt in Gucci’s expression.

“Gucci, I- I want to, I just-” Clem’s hands flutter as she gestures. “I want it to mean something tomorrow.”

Gucci pulls back. “Do you really think I would do this if it meant nothing?”

“That’s not what I meant, I- it’s just, I-”

Gucci lets out a breath, turning away. “Goodnight Clementine.”

The room always feels so quiet, after she leaves.

“Goodnight Gucci,” says Clem quietly.

She stares up at the ceiling for a long time before she falls asleep.

  
  


\----

  
  


She tries other things. After all, nothing she does matters, so what does it matter what she does.

As Millie salutes her, Clem slaps the clipboard out of her hands. She loses the fight that follows, badly, the sting of humiliation following her into the next version of today.

After a few loops she goes back to the loading bay to seek out the crate that’s full of contraband Kesh liquor and gets resoundingly drunk in a dark corner of the loading bay. She wakes up in her bed. It is, perhaps, the only time she’s wished for a hangover.

She tries locking herself in the command centre, directing Fort Icebreaker off course, as though she can escape the day by physical distance. She manages to stay awake for that one, the day resetting around her as she blinks.

Clem looks for Millie again after that. This time, she knows Millie’s moves a little better, ducking out of the way of the first hit, if only to get hit by the second, slamming her against the wall.

“Hey,” says Millie, her hand pinning Clem to the wall, “What’s _up_ with you, princess? I mean, usually you’re crazy but like, rich-people crazy not like… attack me in the storeroom crazy.”

“Maybe I _am_ crazy,” says Clem, “that would explain why today keeps being today.”

Millie makes a face. “What?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” says Clem.

Millie gives her a long look. Clem glares back.

Millie takes a deep breath in. “I’m going to let you up now, but if you come at me again I will knock you out.”

“That doesn’t matter either,” says Clem, “All that means is that it will be today again faster.”

  
  


\----

  
  


Clem does try. _Really_. She asks for Doctor Schuyler and explains everything very carefully and then he gives her a sedative.

She sighs, and drinks the tincture. “Maybe I’ll explain myself better next time.”

She must do an even worse job at it, because the Doctor Schuyler looks even more worried this time around. He calls for Sovereign Immunity, who nods through her explanation, giving the doctor worried looks as though she can’t see him.

“Why,” says Clem loudly, “does everyone assume I can’t see what they’re doing when they’re right in front of me?”

“What?” says Sovereign Immunity, “Your highness?”

She slaps him, pushing her way past the doctor and out into the hall, breaking into a run. She spends the rest of the day hiding in a cramped cupboard in the kitchen, half-wishing that Sovereign Immunity _would_ find her so she could yell at him.

The only person who comes in is Valence. At first she thinks they’re looking for her too - they certainly seem to be looking for _someone_.

“Broun?”

Clem stays very still, holding her breath.

“Of course, why would you be somewhere I can actually find you,” mutters Valence, the door slamming shut behind them.

She closes her eyes, and waits for sleep to take her back to the morning.

  
  


\----

  
  


She tries to go through the next today as though it’s normal. She’s tried fighting it, she’s tried telling people, she’s tried divines and miracle workers and doctors, maybe if she pretends that everything is fine, everything will be fine and she’ll wake up to it being tomorrow, finally.

When she wakes up, her alarm chimes and Clem _screams_.

She skips all the meetings (she knows them by heart now anyway) and goes to the roof of Fort Icebreaker. There’s a small patch that pokes above the water as the Fort makes its way slowly through the ocean. There’s barely any room at all, just one handrail, and then nothing but the wide ocean.

The handrail is slippery with water.

Or maybe it’s not that slippery. Maybe she’s just _tired_.

The water is as cold and as dark as she imagined. Her coat weighs her down, pulling her deeper even as she reaches for the surface.

_I don’t want it to be like this_ , she thinks, frantic, before the world goes black.

  
  


\----

  
  


Clem wakes up gasping.

She can’t shake the feeling of cold, so she wraps herself in her biggest coat, heading towards the deck where Gur Sevraq takes their morning walk.

“Clementine Kesh,” says Gur, “I did not expect to see you out here.”

“Well, here I am,” says Clem.

“You seem as though you have sought me out for a reason.”

“Yes,” says Clem, “What happens, when you die?”

Their eyes fix on her, glittering in the early morning light. “That’s a very complicated question.”

“I’m sure it is,” says Clem, “but I thought you were supposed to know such things.”

“I can only guess at it,” says Gur. They pause. “I did not think of you who had any particular interest in such things.”

“I have an interest in many things,” says Clem, “A leader should have a multitude of interests.”

Her mother said that to her once, as a reason behind why she had to take piano lessons _and_ ballet lessons instead of just the rowing practise that she wanted to do, but Gur doesn’t need to know that. 

They hum, their fingers flexing for a moment on the railing. Clem waits, her hands flexing in her pockets to try to keep warm.

“I do not know what happens to us,” says Gur, “Not with the certainty that you seem to require.”

Clem makes a frustrated sound. “But- you would know if you were… there, wouldn’t you?”

Gur blinks. “If you were dead? I would think so.”

“ _How_ ?” says Clem, not quite able to keep her voice as steady as she would like. “How would you _know_?”

Gur tilts their head. “I would think you would remember dying.”

For a moment, the sound of rushing water fills Clem’s ears. Her knees buckle and she reaches out, gripping the railing tightly.

“Your highness?” says Gur.

Clem steps backwards. “Thank you. For your time.”

She walks quickly back to her room and crawls into bed.

Perhaps she is dead, and this is some kind of eternal torment, which feels wildly unfair since she hasn’t ever _done_ anything, not really, not anything worse than what other people have done. She hasn’t really had a chance to _do_ anything.

  
  


\----

  
  


She sees how long she can lie in bed until Sovereign Immunity comes to find her, dragging her to the meeting with Valence that the Clem of long-ago yesterday set up. She wordlessly hands her notes to Valence, staring blankly ahead as Sovereign Immunity stumbles through approximations of what he’s sure she meant to say. 

“That’s- okay,” says Valence, looking from Clem to Sovereign Immunity. “And you’ll pay them, right?” 

“What does it matter?” says Clem. She can see Sovereign Immunity’s wince out of the corner of her eye, the flicker of irritation shaking her out of her daze slightly. She blinks. “Yes, of course we’re paying them. I know you think me a monster but I’m not an _idiot_. I have always paid people for their work.” 

“Fairly?” says Valence. 

“Yes,” says Clem, “Well, I assume I have. I’m not really in charge of that.” 

“Well now you are,” says Valence, “so…” 

“So pay them what you think is fair,” says Clem, “but keep in mind that our funds are not unlimited and we have people who we have already promised to pay.” 

After they’re a few corridors away Sovereign Immunity turns to her. “You did good work, holding your line in there.”

“There’s no need to sound so surprised,” says Clem. 

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” says Sovereign Immunity, “It was just… I know Kesh attitudes, and I know-” 

“You mean you know my _mother’s_ attitudes,” snaps Clem, “We have not worked together for long enough for you to know mine, no matter how long this Divine-damned day is.”

She stomps away, back to her rooms. She’s too tired to hide from Gucci today, so she lies on her bed and waits. Sure enough, there’s a knock at the door. 

They have the same fight as ever, but this time Clem catches sight of Gucci’s expression before she leaves, her chest tightening. She hadn’t ever thought Gucci had ever been _hurt_.

She swallows, looking at herself in the mirror as she carefully attempts the braid updo. It’s a serviceable job, and there are few on the ship who would notice her mistakes. 

She combs it out and goes to bed.

  
  


\----

  
  


Since whatever she’s done previously hasn’t worked, maybe doing the reverse _will_.

“You’re right Valence,” says Clem, “I am a monster.”

She pilfers a few of the liquor bottles from the loading bay and finds a storeroom to hide out in to avoid whatever Gucci has to say about what she’s done, locking the door behind her before she realises that she’s not alone.

“Uh, hi,” says Broun.

Clem holds out one of the bottles. “I am not here.”

Broun looks at her, then at the bottle, then back to her. “Got it. You’re not here.”

“I think they were looking for you,” says Clem, after they’re half a bottle deep, “Valence.”

Broun stills. “So?”

Clem shrugs. “So, nothing. You seem like the kind of person who likes having information, I gave you information. _And_ liquor. I gave you information and liquor.”

“Did you… tell them where I was?”

“No,” says Clem, “I was hiding in a cupboard and it was none of their business.”

Broun considers her for a moment, taking a long drink. “You know, everyone says you’re kind of a bitch, and they’re right, but you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” says Clem.

Broun laughs

  
  


\----

  
  


Doing the _right_ thing didn’t work, and doing the _wrong_ thing didn’t work, so this time around Clem tires the _Kesh_ thing instead. 

“Of course I’m not paying them,” says Clem, ignoring the way her stomach churns, “They will work for the glory of Stel Kesh, what more could they possibly need?”

Valence turns around, and walks out without a word.

“Oh,” says Clem, “that’s new.”

Clem speaks to the staff of Fort Icebreaker, her small army, ignoring the disappointed looks Sovereign Immunity sends her way. They nod, and listen to her, and this at least feels easy even if it does not feel right. 

Maybe that means it _is_ right, after all, it’s not as though when she’d done the right thing people have liked her any more than they do right now.

Gucci does not come to see her. That particular change feels notable.

_Maybe_ , Clem thinks, squeezing her eyes shut, _Maybe_.

  
  


\----

  
  


It’s not it. 

Clem tries a couple of other combinations - not taking in any refugees, taking in all the refugees; the refugees get paid the same, the refugees get paid less, the refugees get paid via a complicated algorithm; no missions to aid people, double the amount of aid missions; farming on board, farming under the sea, farming on claimed land - none of it works.

Sovereign Immunity knocks on her door and Clem pulls the covers over her head.

  
  


\----

  
  


Her alarm chimes. Clem sighs, and gets up.

“Clementine Kesh,” says Gur, “I did not expect to see you out here.”

“You should have,” says Clem, “aren’t you supposed to see the future?”

The corners of Gur’s eyes crinkle as they smile. “Take a walk with me.”

Clem gestures to the small strip of deck. “Not much of a walk.”

“I am heading down, after this, to speak to the refugees,” says Gur, “I understand you have a meeting about them later today. Perhaps it would be beneficial for you to see them before you do so.”

Clem lets out a deep breath. “Fine.”

The group of refugees look at her the way Sovereign Immunity does sometimes, as though they’re not just expecting her to do something, but that they _know_ she’s going to do something, and that they’re not sure it will be good.

She doesn’t really pay attention to Gur’s speech - she’s heard it before, after all. After, people crowd around Gur, bringing them their problems. Clem shifts her feet, turning to the closest person to her, a woman a little younger than her, trying to remember the language Gur used when he spoke. 

“So, uh. What is it that you want the future to look like?”

The woman straightens. “Safety, for myself, and my family.”

“Yes, well, of course,” says Clem, “But I meant what do _you_ want.”

The woman glances towards where Gur is still talking to those crowded around him. “I...my sister is a pretty good seamstress and I have an even better head for figures. I think, if I could, I’d- _we’d_ make beautiful, the kind people could wear every day, or most days… People want that, I think.”

“I’m sure they do,” says Clem.

  
  


\----

  
  


She doesn’t wait for Gur, next time, and she brings some of her old gowns down too, for basing the dress patterns on.

“I think we have some fabric around here too,” says Clem, “You can use it here, or take it with you, if you go. It’s not much but… you can start with something.”

She’s late for the meeting with Valence, stumbling through it, and she barely manages to get rid of Sovereign Immunity before Gucci arrives.

Gucci sits on the edge of the bed, watching Clem pull her hair into a braided updo. “You're better at that than I would have thought.” 

"I've had a lot of practice,” says Clem.

  
  


\----

  
  


The next time, she pulls some of the refugees into the meeting with Valence.

“We’re talking about them, after all,” says Clem, “They should be able to have some say in what happens.” She pauses. “Also, I still have _no idea_ about how farming works.”

  
  


\----

  
  


After a particularly bad meeting with Valence, Clem stomps her way down to the storeroom where Broun is, stopping by to grab the Kesh liquor first. 

“Hi,” says Clem.

“Uh, Hi,” says Broun.

Clem holds out the bottle. “This is a bribe.”

Broun eyes the bottle. “A bribe for what?”

“For not making me talk about anything,” says Clem.

Broun thinks for a moment, then takes the bottle. “I don’t actually want to talk to you anyway.”

“I know,” says Clem, “That’s why I came down here.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” says Clem.

She does mean to just be quiet, but the words slip out of her after a while.

“I’m just tired of it.”

Broun shifts, their whole body turning to look at her. “Of what.”

“Valence,” says Clem.

“They’re not that bad,” says Broun.

Clem narrows her eyes at them. “Hmm.”

“Hmm _what_?”

“Hmm you know them,” says Clem.

“Sort of,” says Broun.

“They were looking for you,” says Clem. She pauses. “Or, they are looking for you? I guess it depends what time it is.”

“They were?”

Clem nods.

Broun lets out a long breath. 

“And you’re hiding from them,” says Clem.

“I am not!”

Clem gestures to the room around them, which she feels like is making a point even if her head is slightly too fuzzy to know what that point is. Broun wrinkles their nose.

“We did this like…” Broun wiggles their fingers. “Mind shit, and now it’s like… I don’t know. I got a lot of stuff up there I don’t want them to know.”

“You should talk to them,” says Clem, “You can’t hide down here forever.”

“Is that why you came down here?”

Clem squeezes her eyes shut. “I don’t want to fight with Gucci again. I’m tired of fighting with her, I want her to _like_ me.”

Broun’s eyes go wide. “Oh it’s like _that_.” 

“No!” says Clem. “It’s- complicated. We were school friends.” 

Broun waggles their eyebrows. “ _School friends_ , right.” 

“No, it’s-” Clem huffs a breath. “Well. There was this _party_ and we- it doesn’t matter, I mean, she never said anything about it, to anyone-” 

Broun winces, throwing their arm over Clem’s shoulders in a way that’s very forward but that she doesn’t shake off. She falls asleep on Broun’s shoulder, which would be very embarrassing if they remembered it. She’s almost glad they don’t.

  
  


\----

  
  


“Thank you for your time,” says Clem.

Valence nods, turning back to face the window.

Clem clears her throat. “And uh. If you were, hypothetically, looking for Kal'mera Broun, they’re down in storeroom C45.”

Sovereign Immunity gives her an odd look as they walk. “I didn’t think you and Broun were… acquainted.” 

“I consider it my duty to know all the passengers aboard Fort Icebreaker,” says Clem, “now, about this farming presentation, I think we need to organise a meeting with some farmers and engineers to see if they can find a practical solution for farming on board.”

When Gucci finds her, Clem tugs her out of her room.

“You can tell me I’m wrong just as well if we’re getting some air,” says Clem.

  
  


\----

  
  


It takes her three versions of the day to make it to the deck with Gucci, and even then, they still fight.

Clem’s still smarting by the time she reaches the next iteration, and Clem slams out of the room. When she reaches the deck, Sovereign Immunity is leaning on the railing, looking out as the dark water.

“I didn’t know you came out here,” says Clem.

Sovereign Immunity straightens. “It helps me think.”

Clem nods, stepping beside him.

“Clementine… is everything alright?”

“I’m just… tired, I suppose,” says Clem. She pauses. “I tried handling the situation in every way I can think of, even how... even how my mother would have and even that didn’t seem to go much better.” Clem closes her eyes. “I know what she would do. I suppose I’m just not sure what _I_ should do.” 

Sovereign Immunity pauses, considering her a moment. “For what it’s worth, I believe you’re finding your way pretty well under the circumstances.”

Clem looks up at him. “I don’t know about that. I’ve done this day-” Her throat feels tight. “I mean, I _feel_ like I’ve done this day a hundred times and I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s just how it feels, I think,” says Sovereign Immunity. He pauses again. “Her way isn’t the right way.”

“Then what is?”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out,” says Sovereign Immunity.

“Well, I wish we could do it faster,” says Clem, “I’d like to see tomorrow.”

  
  


\----

  
  


Clem blinks awake as her alarm chimes.

She’s lost count of how many mornings have been today. 

She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly before she sits up. She blinks at her reflection for a moment before she styles her hair, her fingers easily following the path Gucci’s had taken. 

She dresses, and walks the ship. 

Today will be as long as every other today, she supposes. 

She checks in on the command posts before she heads down to speak to the refugees, trying to convince a few of them to come to her meeting with Valence. Today, she’s not as convincing, and they refuse. Clem sighs, bracing herself before she enters to meet with Valence. They’re always less prickly when she can convince the refugees to come, even though the line of their shoulders remains tight. This today will be a struggle, then.

“Valence. I understand that you do not trust me, after all, I have hardly given you reason to. This is, after all, my first time doing anything like this. But I… we need to work together. None of us can win this alone.”

Clem sighs, ignoring the prickle of irritation as Valence’s eyes slide from her to Sovereign Immunity.

“If I were to propose this plan, people would take it as an order and not as an offer. It serves no one for this idea to come from me.” 

“So you don’t get any of the critique for it,” mutters Valence. 

“Nor do I get any of the compliments,” says Clem. 

Valence pauses, looking to Sovereign Immunity again. “We’ll need something more detailed than that piece of paper.”

“Then I would advise you to come along with me to meet one of the farmers we rescued.” 

Valence blinks. “You spoke to them?” 

“They’re quite informative,” says Clem.

She leads Sovereign Immunity down with her, so that he can talk to the farmers. She waits until Sovereign is sufficiently engaged in conversation, then slips away to the storeroom.

Broun looks up as she knocks on the door. “Valence is looking for you, I think.”

“Uh,” says Broun.

“You should try to find them,” says Clem, “Or, at least let yourself be found.”

She reaches her bedroom at the same time as Gucci.

“Sorry I’m late,” says Clem. “We don’t have an appointment.” 

“Oh,” says Clem, “No, I don’t suppose we do.” She pauses. “Take a walk with me.”

“What?”

“Take a walk with me,” says Clem.

“Why?” says Gucci.

“Because I want you to,” says Clem. There’s no consequences, so why not just say how she feels. “Because I like spending time with you, even if we end up arguing.”

To her surprise, Gucci’s cheeks flush pink. “I- I guess I’m not busy right now.”

“I know you’re not,” says Clem.

They lean against the railing of the deck, their hands close enough that Clem can feel the heat of Gucci’s hand. The ocean spreads out before them, but Clem’s seen it enough. She looks up at Gucci instead, tracing her features in the moonlight.

“I heard about what you said today, to Valence,” says Gucci softly, “You really do keep surprising me.”

Despite the cold air, Clem feels her cheeks flush. “Yes, Well. I suppose I like to keep you on your toes.” 

“If I were, I would be far too tall,” says Gucci. 

“Too tall?” 

“For this,” says Gucci, and leans down to kiss Clem. 

It’s not very dramatic, certainly not compared to some of their other kisses over the many versions of the day - more of a soft brush of the lips, a momentary sharing of air than a kiss. It takes Clem’s breath away all the same. 

“Oh, well.” says Clem, once she’s managed to find her voice again. “That would be a shame, I suppose.”

“Come on,” says Gucci.

She leads Clem back to her room, the green-grey ceiling the same but the furnishings a little different. She presses Clem back against the bed and Clem goes still.

Gucci frowns. “Clem?”

“I…” Clem swallows. “I don’t want this to disappear. I want to keep this, and I can’t-”

Gucci cups her cheek. “We don’t… we can just go to sleep.”

“You’ll be gone,” says Clem, “I’ll lose this moment.”

“We’ll have new ones,” says Gucci, “Tomorrow, we’ll make new moments.”

Clem presses her lips together. “What if it’s never tomorrow?”

“Then we should make the most of right now,” says Gucci.

She kisses Clem, her hands smoothing down Clem shoulders, coaxing her to relax back on the bed. They don’t do much more than that, their fingers tangled together as they share slow breaths.

Gucci falls asleep first. Clem keeps watch, keeping her eyes wide open, wishing and wishing and _wishing_ -

  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  


Clem frowns. There’s a sound, but it’s far away. The bed underneath her moves as someone leans over her to turn off the alarm.

Her eyes snap open.

Gucci smiles down at her. “Good morning, I-” Her expression shifts. “Clem are you-”

“It’s tomorrow,” says Clem.

“It is,” says Gucci.

“No, Gucci, it’s _tomorrow_ ,” says Clem, and pulls her into a kiss.

Gucci laughs against her mouth. “I thought you’d care about morning breath.”

“Who cares about _that_ ?” says Clem, “Morning breath means we _made it_.” 

“I suppose we did,” says Gucci, “When’s your first meeting today?”

“It’s-” Clem mind goes blank, and she covers her mouth, trying to muffle a laugh. “Do you know, I have absolutely no idea.” She leans down to kiss Gucci again. “I truly, truly have no idea.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen someone so delighted that they don’t know their plan for the day,” says Gucci. 

“It’s been a while since I had to think about it,” says Clem, “But I am absolutely thrilled to have to consider it.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
